Tempus Anima Rei
by tombombadillo
Summary: "Any time, any planet, any star. Asteroid, meteor belt, the Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe. Anywhere you could ever possibly want to go, I could take you. Within reason." (Castle/Doctor Who AU) (Rating for safety)
1. Chapter 1

**A happy birthday fic, for Ellie (closingdoors), who I bully relentlessly but who I will always love.**

**Enjoy, my love.**

**(**_**tempus anima rei – time is the soul of things)**_

* * *

He sees her buying coffee, once maybe a couple of times a week. He's not sure what it is about her in particular. She's a complete and utter bombshell, he'll give her that, legs up to her ears, a waterfall of dark brown curls down her back, hazel eyes (though sometimes they're green) that sometimes turn in his direction with something akin to amusement. And he won't deny that there's something…_there_. He's not entirely sure what _there_ is, or means, but it's just _there_. Some kind of weird mystical invisible thing (w_eird mystical invisible thing_? You're a writer, you can do better than that) that he's just inevitably drawn to. And until today, today when he's sat in his booth, pen tapping against the edge of his moleskin notebook because the words just won't flow from his brain to the paper, he's never really… acted on it. Today though, today may be different.

Why?

He doesn't know the answer to that, but the way she walks in through the door followed by a gust of brown, skeletal leaves on an autumn wind, there's something… different. It's not noticeably different, and it takes a couple of minutes for him to notice and she's already back out of the door and disappearing in the afternoon crowds of a busy New York street. But there's something, something about the way she'd walked out. Like she wasn't going to come back. And something inside of him, he needed to know why.

He's up before he can even tell himself that it's probably a bad idea. A really bad idea. She's probably just broken up with a boyfriend. Girlfriend? Divorced? No, she was never wearing a wedding ring. But she wants alone time. To grieve, or break or mend, or something that doesn't involve him sticking his nose in where it's most likely not wanted. Though, his mother has always told him that he's not one for subtlety, has always made rash decisions and invades people's lives much like the Vikings stormed Scotland. And this is a rash decision, and he's not being at all subtle about it, and he is just going to completely invade her privacy… but he just doesn't care. He should, really. He should, but he can think about that later.

All he can think about, right now is catching up to her. He didn't quite catch which direction she turned in when she left and he almost cricks his neck trying to see which way she went. And then he catches a brief glimpse of sky high heels and ass-hugging denim, the sway of her hips luring him on like a fish after bait (oh yeah, perfect simile that. He's a fish, she's a big juicy worm). He ducks and weaves around pedestrians, keeping a careful hold on his moleskin (she's wearing heels, how the hell is she walking so fast?) and then, just like that she's gone. Disappeared out of the crowds before he could even catch up to her. Damnit. Damnit it all to-

"You're following me." He turns around on his heel, finds her leaning in an alcove, shoulder against the wall, legs crossed. Epitome of laid back. Cool, and calm. There's something un-nerving about it. "I don't like people following me."

"I- couldn't help noticing…" She lifts an eyebrow in question and he stammers on, trying not to be put off by the look in her eyes. He'd thought she had nice eyes to begin with. He imagines they'd be hazel in the morning, when she's just woken up and the light has yet to hit them but as they day wears on they slowly lighten to a light green, bright and brilliant in the sunlight. But now he can see them up close, they aren't what he expected. Sure, they're bordering on the edge of brown and green, but there's a darkness there. A darkness he never thought he'd see, or want to see. He doesn't know what it is, how it got there and why she's got it. But he wants to know. And it scares the shit out of him. "I've seen you a few times, in the coffee shop. You always bought three coffees. And today you only bought one."

She raises the other eyebrow, another question that he's really not sure how to answer, but he stammers on regardless. "I just… wanted to know why."

"You wanted to know why I only bought one coffee instead of two?"

He shuffles awkwardly, scuffing the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe. "I'm nosy. And you intrigue me. I'm a writer, and I love people. They fascinate me. I want to know what they like, what they don't, what are their secrets, their passions, their dreams and nightmares. Are they a cat or a dog person, do they live with their parents, kids, husbands, wives. Their job, the scars that they've collected over the years… "

She watches him with those eyes again, and they're pulling him in and if he doesn't run away now, if he doesn't turn around and march down the street and back into the relative safety of a cab, he's going to be completely stuck high and dry.

"You got a name?"

It's not the question he expects. It's not anything he expects. He was anticipating being left in the dirt with a toss of hair as she disappears into the ether, never to be seen again. But he'll take what he can get. "Richard Castle. Most people call me Rick, unless you're my mother."

"I'm not your mother."

"No, no you're not." He doesn't mean it to sound quite like _that_, but he's not going to deny that she is unbearably _hot_. "Are you going to reciprocate?"

She half shrugs, letting a corner of her mouth pull up into a sort of smile. "More fun making you guess."

"That's impossible."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's _impossible_. Nothing's impossible. Not really." He'd say she was smirking now, relying on some inside knowledge that he isn't privy to, making him feel ever so inferior.

"And you know that for a fact, do you?"

"Yeah, actually. I do."

"Are you going to share?"

She looks at him then. Like, really properly looks at him, like she's staring at his eyes but seeing his soul. Seeing everything that makes him who he is, the scar on his knee where he accidentally fell off his mountain bike five years ago (all in the name of research, he says), the lies he told his mother when he was ten and yes, mother, it really _was _a stray dog that ate the packet of cookies on the way home, the secret jealousy he has when he sees people with their fathers and he knows he's never going to have that connection with someone. She's looking at him like she knows it all, and then after what seems like a lifetime she's standing up straight and taking a step forward him. He should move, take a step backwards but he feels like a deer in the headlights. Completely frozen by the look she's giving him. Excitement, certainly. A tinge of sadness.

"You sure you really want to know?"

* * *

He's not sure he wants to know. Not when she's leading him on a roundabout route of back alleys, never wavering, completely certain in direction. He's lost already. And sure, he's a strong, robust male who keeps himself well, but he can sense the hidden power that's hidden in the lithe limbs, the fierceness that's a constant fire in her eyes. If she suddenly starts attacking him, he's really not sure who's going to come off worse.

"Where are we going?" he finally asks, trying to lengthen his stride to catch up to her. Seriously. The heels, How the hell does she walk so fast?

"You wanted to know." She replies, cryptically. "You're welcome to turn around and go back, if you want. No skin off my nose."

"I – no, I want to know. I just don't understand why we have to get quite so lost to understand. I didn't even know New York has this many back streets, and I've lived here all of my life."

"There's always something new to learn. But we're almost there."

"Almost where?"

She raises her hand and points to a dark corner, and if he squints he can make out the shadowy outline of a large box. "There."

"That's a box."

"Your powers of observation are amazing." She laughs. "Yes, it's a box."

"You're showing me a box?"

"It's what's in the box that counts."

He eyes it cautiously, the writer part of his brain thinking up all kinds of worst case scenarios. She could be a psychopath for all he knew. The box could be full of guns and knives and all kinds of torture devices, and here he is in a dark alley with a woman he has no doubt can kick his ass five ways to Sunday and there's no one around to help. He's almost tempted to run, almost, but the curious part… the part that will constantly over ride any concerns that the rational part of his brain has, says otherwise. "It doesn't look very… big."

"Looks can be deceiving. It's surprisingly spacious." She's pulling a key out of her pocket, small and silver and utterly non-descript.

"Is this some weird kink of yours? Lure strangers into your box and have some kinky sex with them?"

She offers him an eye roll and proceeds to open the door. He's close behind, of course, because she's hot and he's a full blooded, healthy male and he's not going to say no if she really does want to have really cramped sex with him. It's just shower sex… without the shower. But it's not cramped. It's not dark and dismal. Nor is it full of knives and other murder equipment. It's… huge. It's huge and light and airy, and completely and utterly _impossible._ He's hallucinating. Definitely hallucinating, because this is ridiculous. The box, it was tiny. It was _small_. He stumbles out of the door again, almost falling over his own feet and landing in a mass of limbs but he saves himself just in time. Definitely not imagining it. The outside, is about the size of his shower at home. And the inside… is about as big as his entire loft. There's a ramp up to some kind of console, wires and leavers and switches and buttons and dials and screens, some weird glass contraption rising up out of the middle and extending up into the shadowy heights of the roof.

"This isn't possible." He stammers, staring around him. "This is so completely _impossible._"

"Not a lot is impossible. I told you."

"But it's – this is… it's bigger on the inside. That's physically impossible!" he retaliates, waving his arms around as if that would make her see how bizarre all of this is.

"And yet," she replies with an insufferable smirk on her face, "here it is."

"Is… this normal?"

She tilts her head slightly, brow furrowed in both question and amusement. "What do you mean?"

"Is this a thing we've developed? Some underground government testing facility?"

"You think I'd be allowed out of an underground testing facility with this? No, it's not the government. And no, you haven't been developing this. This is… not you."

"Not you? Not you as in not … me? Or not you as in not American?"

"Neither."

"European?"

She laughs, a brilliant high, clear sound that makes his heart beat just a tiny bit faster. "No. Come on, think about it."

"But… it can't. It's not…"

"Not possible? You're still using that line?" She walks past him and closes the door with a quiet click that echoes in the cavernous space. It leaves him with no chance of escape, no-where to go but up.. "I think we're past the realms of impossible now. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, but – are you serious?" He feels like his eyes are bugging out of his head, and they probably are considering the expression she's currently looking at him with. Though, surely, she must be used to this. Really. He can't be the first person she's had in her… box.

"Serious about what?"

"You're an alien. You're actually an alien. You're an _alien_."

"And at last, he gets it! Took you long enough." She marches past him again, right up to the console and starts pulling levers.

"Are you from Mars?"

"No, not from Mars. Or any planet in your solar system."

He takes careful steps up the ramp, watching as she moves around the console with all the grace of a gazelle or a cat. "So, this is your spaceship?"

He looks up, startled, as the room around him, the whole … box? seems to groan and rumble around him, as if it's voicing a complaint.

"She's not a spaceship. She's… more than a spaceship. Or a rocket. Something completely unique."

"Does _she_ have a name?"

She looks up at the space around her, fond and proud and strangely sad. "This is the TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space."


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm having to put writing on the back-burner for a few days. What with my new job and my mother having just been admitted to hospital for an undetermined amount of time I've got to put more important things above writing. I'm going to try and write when I have time, but I have priorities and stuff. I'll try and keep up regular updates when I can, but please bear with me for the next couple of weeks.**

* * *

"Time and Relative Dimension…" Castle trails off, looking at her bewilderedly. "You mean… Is this… am I standing inside a time machine?!"

The woman smiles at him, all toothy and wide and he thinks it's possible the nicest smile he's seen in years. "Any time, any planet, any star. Asteroid, meteor belt, the Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe. Anywhere you could ever possibly want to go, I could take you. Within reason."

His mind is suddenly full of images of dinosaurs and cavemen, green aliens with five eyes, Starship Enterprises' and Klingon's and Jedi's and Darth Vadars'. He almost asks if the Death Star is real, and if it is could they possibly go there. He almost does, but then he sees the look on her face. She may have the nicest smile he's seen in forever, but he also can't remember ever seeing someone look so sad. "You look… are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm good." She tries to smile, to her credit, and if he wasn't so utterly convinced she was lying then he'd probably believe her. "You're very calm for someone who just discovered all of this."

"I'm just trying to think of where to go. You mean it, any time, any place? You just put the co-ordinates in and off you go?" His fingers are twitching to test out all the controls on the central console, the little kid in him suddenly coming to life.

"Yeah, pretty much. But I'm not going anywhere. At least, you're not going anywhere."

"What?" But you can't show me this, and tell me all of these things and then not _actually_ take me anywhere. That's just…"

"Unfair? Yeah, life isn't fair."

"But you obviously… you must have had other guests. You were buying two coffees. You don't buy two coffees at the same time, they'd just go cold. You were buying them for someone else. What makes me any different?"

"Because you have a family. Everyone has a family. And this, the travelling it's dangerous. This puts you in harms danger. I could take you back to the battle of Waterloo, to Hastings, hundreds of years ago and you can die. Years and years and _years_ before you were born. And your family will never know. To them, you've just gone missing."

"I don't have a family."

"Yeah, you do. Everyone has a family. You telling me you don't have a mother, or a daughter? A partner? A best friend. It affects people. Not just the one's I take with me, but everyone. And I'm not doing that. Not again."

"What… what happened?"

"I was travelling with someone. And she died. And that's all you need to know."

"But that wasn't it, was it?" He's not sure why he's so desperate to know, why he needs to understand why she's so sad. "She had a family. Like you said."

She turns away with a surprising viciousness, hands clenched into fists at her side. "Do you know what it's like, loosing someone? And knowing that is was all your fault, and you have to watch as their family drive themselves crazy with grief? Posters, news broadcasts, dragging lakes and rivers, digging up back yards because of some vague hint that some reward hungry idiot has phoned in. And I could stop all that. I could give them all closure. But can I? No, no I can't. Because I'm an alien with a bigger on the inside time machine. And who would believe me anyway? So I leave and I don't come back because it hurts. I don't look back. Except this time… there was something… I couldn't help it with this one."

"So, what, you just … travel around on your own?"

"Easier. Less painful. Don't get attached."

"But that's just… really? You're happy with that?"

"It's a lot better than losing the people you care about. So, you can look, but you're not going anywhere."

"Not even somewhere safe? There's got to be some where you can go that is one hundred percent completely safe. Just one trip. That's all I'm asking for, and then you can bring me back here and you can drop me off and go again. Where ever you want, and I won't complain."

She looks like she's going to contemplate it, starts chewing on her bottom lip and staring at him. He's pushing it, he knows. Really, he should be nice enough to just leave her alone, let her go and travel the universe or whatever she does. But really, he's stood in a time machine, meters away from an actual alien and does she actually expect him to be able to walk out of this place without asking for something?

"One trip?"

"That's all."

"And then you'll leave me alone?"

"And then I'll leave you alone. It's not like I can do anything, really. You just shove me out of the door and disappear and what are the chances I can follow?"

"Well, you could cling onto the outside but I don't recommend it. You'll most likely end up dead and worse off than when you started off." She turns to the console and stares at it for a few quiet moments while he waits with baited breath. "Okay, fine. One trip. But I swear, when you get back I better not find that you've published books about it. There's a reason I haven't exposed all of this and I don't want to be captured and poked and prodded by your damn government."

"I solemnly swear that I will not publish a word about you. At all. At least, not _you_ technically."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the people in my books, a lot of them are based on people I see in real life. Names, faces, occupations. That's why I people watch, it gives me inspiration. So I might not introduce a time travelling alien with a bigger on the inside time machine, but I might have someone like you. Your personality, your character. Not that you'll know, really. I mean, how often do you find the time to buy books?"

"Time machine, Castle. You'd be surprised how much time I can find to do things. Especially read books."

"You like books?"

"Well, when you've hung around with the best… Tolkien and Rowling and Lewis… Doyle, Dickens… Shakespeare is a real flirt…"

"You know Shakespeare?!"

"Come off it, the one thing you do when you've got a time machine is go and visit Shakespeare at least once. And I may have sneaked a couple of his manuscripts to photocopy. They're in the library."

"There's – a library? Just how big is this?"

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. There's the library, and the swimming pool, and the kitchen and the wardrobe, numerous bedrooms and bathrooms. I think there's a garden somewhere, and a conservatory. But every time I go exploring there's always something new. So, really I have no idea."

"Can we go see? The library, I mean."

"I don't see why not." She jerks her head into the shadowy recesses beyond the console. "It's this way."

He follows cautiously, the shadows filling him with a vague unease. It's not that he doesn't trust her, because for some strange unexplainable reason he does, but there's always been something undeniably creepy about "Do you not have lights in this place?"

"You kill people for a living and you're scared of the dark?"

"It's not the dark that scares me. It's what's _in the_ dark, and-" he stops in his tracks, one foot hovering above the floor as he stares at her, "wait, how do you know what books I write. I never mentioned that!"

"Didn't you?"

"I said I was a writer, I never mentioned I wrote murder mystery. How do you know that?"

She's smirking at him, something he didn't entirely expect for such an embarrassing slip of the tongue. "Time traveller, Castle. I get around a lot."

"Wait – so you – have you bought my books?"

"Well, I wouldn't say _buy_…"

"…you steal my books?"

She laughs again, and stops in front of a wooden door. He doesn't expect it to be wood, he was expecting metal and key cards and palm readers, sliding doors that make a _whoosh_ side. "I buy them, don't worry. Wouldn't want to rob you of any royalties."

"You can rob my royalties anytime."

"I'm going to ignore that comment and pretend it never happened, okay?"

"If it gets you through the night."

She pushes open the door without replying and disappears through it, leaving him alone in the corridor. "You coming?"

"This is… this is so…"

"The writer is speechless. Wow. I never thought I'd see the day." She chuckles and moves away towards some other shelf but he's too completely drawn in to the hand written scrawl on the paper in front of him. It seems kind of surreal to have William Shakespeare's _Titus Andronicus_ and _The Tempest_ photocopied onto simple pieces of printer paper. He's seen more than a few Shakespeare plays in his years, whether it was English lessons at school, or trips or Shakespeare in the Park, has used the infamous bard as inspiration ever since he set his hopes on becoming a writer. But he can only stay admiring for a few minutes before he's pulled away again, the inexplicable draw of the ever mysterious woman pulling him onwards.

He finds her halfway up a golden spiral staircase, going up and up onto the second level, and then the third, and … after that he loses count. "Just how big is this library?"

"Big enough."

"And my books are in here?"

"Somewhere. Though you're not looking at them."

"What? Why not?!"

"Well, who's to say you've even written any of them yet? You can't look at books you haven't written."

"Oh! But that's unfair."

"It's so not unfair. It's from a future you haven't lived yet."

"Can you tell me how many of my books you have? Or how many I've written? Or-"

"Nope. They're spoilers. You'll just have to wait."

"But… if I've written future books then that must mean I live, right? I live long enough to write a lot of books, surely that means I can come with you. Properly, I mean. Not just a one off trip."

She sighs forlornly and turns away from him, looking up at the shadowy recesses above. "Time can be rewritten, Castle. Things that you've done in the future can change, they can be forgotten. People can be wiped out of existence in the blink of an eye and you've forgotten them in less."

"Has that ever happened to you?"

"If it had happened to me then I wouldn't be here." Is the reply, along with a very obvious roll of her eyes. "But I have known it to happen to other people."

"Anyone you know?"

"Not personally."

"Well, even if you did, it's not like you remember them, right?"

She rounds on him with a surprising fierceness and he has to take a couple of steps back to just feel like she's not going to burn him alive where he stands. "Do you think it's funny? I know people who have lost their best friends, their husbands and their wives, and they can't remember them. And to watch someone… someone who the week before would have cried themselves to sleep over and _over_ again at the sheer thought of losing them is just carrying on with their life like not having them next to their side is completely normal."

"I just – I didn't mean it like that. I meant, just… if you don't remember them then you don't get the pain. You don't miss them, you don't feel the pain of missing them. No one's in pain. Isn't that the best way to go?"

"You think? You think it's as simple as that?"

"I don't… I'm just…"

"Look, just forget it, okay. It doesn't… let's just take you somewhere and then the sooner we get back the sooner you can leave."

He tries not to take it to heart, understands that she's upset about something he can't fathom or understand, so when she stalks past him he lets her go. Gives her a moment before he follows.

"I don't know your name."

"What?"

"Well, you know my name. But even aliens have names. What exactly do I call you?"

She pauses halfway down the stairs, hand clenched around the rail so hard her knuckles have blanched. "I'm the Doctor."


	3. Chapter 3

**So, timeline wise, I would say this takes place in the late 1990's, so like 95-99 (Neither Alexis or Meredith are on the scene). Also thank you to everyone who's wished my mother well. She's now out of hospital and more or less ish back to normal.**

* * *

He's still not entirely sure on her name. He thinks she's making it up, because seriously what kind of person is called the Doctor? Except she looks pissed. Like, seriously pissed. And he's not quite sure he wants to question her choice of names and suffer the wrath of… whatever she said she was. A Time Lord.

"So, people call you the Doctor?"

"People who know me as the Doctor do. But they just call me Doctor. If that's what you want to do, then fine."

"What do people who don't know you call you? Do you have an alias or something? Are you like James Bond?"

"Most people call me Kate. An alias, I suppose. If you want to call it that. But call me whichever you want, whichever's easiest. I don't really care."

"I like Kate."

"There you go then."

They've returned to the console room now and Kate has moved to stand next to it, looking at him expectantly like he's the one that knows where he wants to go. "Do you have anywhere in mind? An event, or a person, or…"

"I… don't know. It's like the question you get. Where would you go if you could travel in time where's the one place you would go? And you think you know. You think you'd have the perfect place in mind, but then you actually could. You have the ability to travel in time and… you're at a complete loss."

"You never say three words if you can say a thousand, do you?"

He shrugs, amused. "I'm a writer. It's part of the job description. Where would you go?"

"I can go anywhere, anytime I want. What I want doesn't matter. This is your one trip, your one chance to see anything you wanted."

"Jeez, no pressure then." He grumbles, turning away from her and pacing.

"By all means, take your time. We have plenty of it." Kate sits on an old, stuffed leather pilot's chair and props her legs up on the console. "Just wake me up when you've thought of something."

There's a lot of places he could go. There's a lot of people he could meet. But with one trip it's hard deciding just where the hell to go. And there's so many planets and asteroids and galaxies, and he could go to the Restaurant at the Edge of the Universe. Apparently that's a real thing. And he could go forward in time. He could see if he has a family, if he's happy, or famous, or whether his he could see … so much. Put bets on matches, buy shares in the next big thing, lottery numbers. He could be rich. But he could also go back in time. He could meet Henry the Eighth, or Shakespeare, or Dickens, or… oh, damn. This is too hard. Okay. He's thinking like twenty odd year old man that he is. Think like a kid. Think like his ten year old self. Where would Richard Castle ten years ago want to go? Well, that's an easy enough answer. What was the one question that he had always wanted answered?

"I want to know who my father is."

* * *

"So, June the thirtieth. New York City, the Plaza Hotel. Are you sure?"

Castle nods and watches as she walks around the console, pushing buttons and flicking switches, pulling on levers and turning so many dials that it makes his head spin. Or maybe it's the thought that he's spent the last twenty nine years pretending that his father was some high flying professional, the inventor of squirty cream, an astronaut, the President of the United States, or something else equally awesome. And now he has the chance to actually see who it was his mother fell so completely in love with. And he doesn't want to be disappointed. What if he's just an office worker. A standard nine till five guy in a suit. Does he have a family? Is he married? Have other children? Does he even know he exists?

"You don't look particularly sure. You look like you're about to throw up."

He opens his mouth to retaliate but he's not entirely sure that what she's saying isn't true. Maybe he should sit down. Or pick somewhere new. Or just not go at all. Go back to the safety of the desk and his notebooks and the allure of Derrick Storm. But then there's a pair of surprisingly soft hands on wrapping around his own and he looks up to find Kate looking at him, soft eyes full of sympathy and empathy and a huge amount of warmth that he didn't expect to see. "We don't have to do this. I won't force you."

"I… it's just, I've spent the past twenty odd years making up ideas about who my father is. And now that I actually could find out…"

"We don't have to go there. We'll just go for a burger with Shakespeare."

"You can go for a burger with Shakespeare?"

"He's rather fond of a good old New York diner. Finds them funny. He's always up for a trip. We could do that, it's fine."

"No, I'm okay. I'm fine. Just this is making me nervous. I mean, it would, wouldn't it? If this were you, you'd be panicking about it too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah I would. But you don't have to talk to him, interact with him or anything. Just see who he is. There's no shame in being nervous, or afraid."

"If we get there… and I back out, do we still get to take Shakespeare to New York?"

Kate lets go of his hands with a smile. "Considering you asked so nicely, sure."

* * *

"You do know how to fly this thing, don't you?" He's staggering around the console room trying to find something to hold onto, but every time he manages to wrap his arms around a pole, the TARDIS tilts the other way and he's flung in a complete opposite direction. Kate, of course, is standing stock still on the grating (in million and one inch high heels) looking at the screen and completely ignoring the toss and turn and roll of the time machine.

"I may have skipped a few classes." She replies, nonchalantly. "I don't crash. Much. Only occasional. Maybe once a week."

"And have you crashed this week?"

"Well, not yet. But it's Friday. Only two days left, and there's a first time for everything."

"I'm not entirely… convinced. Really. It feels like it's going to fall apart around my ears. Is it seriously supposed to make that noise?"

"Oh, ye of little faith! The TARDIS, and myself, for that matter, may be hundreds of years old, but we are perfectly safe. Nothing is going to fall apart, or break, or anything. But I'm not promising on the crashing. She's old, sure. But she's safe."

"Wait – you're – you look about thirty! Jeez, you could make millions of pounds in anti aging cream. How the hell do you do it?"

"It's just alien magic. And I'm not entirely up for revealing my species to the human race. Besides, it's not anti aging cream. I just age very slowly."

Castle staggers up the slope of the console room and grips the edge of the console with his hands. "Does your species have an excellent sense of balance too? How are you managing to stay upright so easily? This things worse than a bucking bronco."

"Oh, the movement? Just go with it, and you'll get used to it. It's pretty easy."

"Speak for yourself," Castle replies, even as he's forced backwards again, "There isn't a chance in hell I would ever get used to this."

"Well, you don't need to. One trip. And then you can go around on solid ground for the rest of your life. Providing, of course, you never go on a boat." There's a sudden jerk, followed by a thump and even Kate's well practiced composure is thrown and she stumbles backwards. She catches herself on a nearby pillar and stays still until the movement has ceased before striding forward with her hands on her hips. "And of course, then there's times when none of it matters and whatever you try and do is completely hopeless."

"Have we stopped? Have we landed?"

"Plaza hotel. Pretty early in the morning, considering I don't really know what time they're supposed to be there."

"So, we just… sit and wait?"

"Yeah, isn't the park just across the street? We'll just sit on a bench and wait. Get some coffee, bear claws. Make a picnic out of it or something. Go on, open the door. Outside, is nineteen sixty eight. The year you were supposedly conceived."

"But don't people notice? I mean it's a blue box materialising out of no-where, don't people… question it?"

"It has this thing called a perception filter. People look at the TARDIS and they see whatever they want to see. A statue, a plinth. A park bench."

"So how come I didn't see a dumpster, or whatever?"

"Well, you wanted to see it." She's marching over to the door before he can even respond, pulling open the door and stepping out into the same city that they just left. It is the same city. It's just… almost thirty years in the past. He expects it to be like the faded colours that he sees on the television, except really, it's just like he left. The colours are just as bright, the noises just as real, if it weren't for the fashion and the style of the building, he'd say he was still where he started. "Welcome back to New York."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this has taken so long. Life has been hectic and work a pain and I just didn't have the energy to write anything. But, here we go. I'm glad you're back off holiday, Eli. We've missed you.**

* * *

"That's them," he says suddenly, sitting forward on the bench, "that's my mother. And my father. That's my father."

He sees the unmistakable red hair of his mother, longer than he knows it to be, but not by much. Dressed in her usual way, the vibrant colour stand out by a mile, especially when compared to the man she's accompanied by. Tall, going slightly grey at the edges, he walks tall. Unashamed, confident. The type of man his mother has always had a weakness for, and now he sees him, now he knows who he is, he starts to understand why his mother had said she'd loved a lifetime in just one night.

"Do you want to know who he actually is, or is this good enough for you?"

"I don't know." Castle sighs, not sitting back until his mother and his recently discovered father disappear into the hotel. He thinks he can still see them through the dark glass doors, pretending that the indefinable splodges of colour that he might just be imagining could be his mother. "My mother never mentioned how long they stayed. For all I know they could have… done the deed and that was that."

"Well, we could. We could follow him, see where he goes. That's one way of working it out."

"I want to work it out. I need to know who he is."

"Alright then. Back to the TARDIS. Do you want to time jump, or just wait? You can sleep, or eat or something. There's plenty of stuff for you to do. Go find the library, the swimming pool, the garden... You could do anything."

"Could we go visit somewhere? A planet?"

"Except that. Anything within the TARDIS. Or, we could explore New York. It's gotta be so much different than the New York you know."

"I don't know what I want."

"We could always go home. There's nothing keeping you here, bar solving a mystery that's haunted you for the past however many years."

"Yeah, maybe. But I think I've found another."

"Another mystery?"

"Yep."

"You know, as an interrogation technique, that really doesn't work. Actually, it's kind of pathetic. And not at all subtle. I've had better off one cell organisms."

"Are all Time Lords that full of themselves, or is it just you?"

There's a flash of something in the hazel of her irises, something indefinable but it's powerful and emotional and it sticks in his gut. And he wants to know, he needs to know, mostly because he's nosy and she's intriguing and amazing and a mystery shrouded in an enigma running around New York in high heels and that _excites_ him. But then there's something else. She looks like she's barely scraping her mid thirties, has barely lived, has so many more years to experience. But then there's that look in her eyes. Haunted. Scared.

"We were pretty full of ourselves, I suppose. But we were the superior race. I think it was expected."

"Past tense."

"What?"

"You used the past tense. You _were_ pretty full of yourselves, you _were_ the superior race. Have the rest of your species learnt to not be so pompous, or have you lost your superiority in the universe?"

"Oh, both. But I like to be superior and pompous on their behalf."

"Just you?"

"Yeah, just me."

And then that seems to be the end of the conversation. The look on her face, the stony resilience to all of his prying has him stepping back. Just for the moment. He'll get to the heart of her eventually, he'll worm his way through whatever barriers she throws up at him, he just hopes that he manages to do it before she drops him back off in New York.

"We'll stay," he thinks she suggests, but it sounds more like an order, "there's less chance of missing them that way." She stands up and stretches, missing the way Castle's gaze immediately focuses on the inch or so of revealed skin at her back. "We'll just go back to the TARDIS and keep an eye out."

"Is it that easy?"

"Sure. TARDIS can keep an eye out, she'll let me know."

"The TARDIS will let you know?"

"She's a living, breathing, and sentient being. She's not just a machine, you know. She knows, she looks out, if he appears then she'll let me know. You can go sleep, go read a book, find something to eat. Explore, if you want." Castle follows her suit and stands up, but he can't seem to take his eyes off the hotel doors. "It's no good stressing about it."

"How exactly is she going to let you know? She talks to you?"

"Telepathically. We're linked."

"Can she talk to me too?"

"She already talks to you, in a way. The moment you stepped inside she was inside your head, looking around, planting her roots. Somebody speaks a language that isn't yours? Automatically translated into something you understand. She knows your age, and your heart rate, your blood pressure, how many teeth you have… apparently you're getting a cavity. Might want to get that seen to. And most of all, she's got to like you. She gets grumpy if she doesn't like you. Doesn't drive properly, temperamental. I try not to travel with people she doesn't like." She starts walking without looking back, believing in the fact that he'll stumble after, and he follows like a lost puppy, trying not to look back at the hotel.

* * *

The TARDIS is not all that far away, hidden underneath a tree and it takes them less than a minute to find their way back again. He's a little iffy about the TARDIS' so called view of the hotel considering there's a wrought iron fence and a sidewalk crawling with people in the way, but he's given up questioning it. Kate puts her faith in the TARDIS, her home, her safety, and he's going to put his faith in her.

"What about me? Does she like me?"

"I don't think she's quite made her mind up yet. But I see no reason why she shouldn't." Kate replies, placing a slim hand against the blue, slightly faded wood. "Just don't be a moron and I'm sure she'll warm up to you."

"I don't plan on being a moron. I'm a smartass, not a jackass. Besides, the TARDIS is… amazing."

Kate snorts and pulls a key out of wherever she's been hiding it. "Flattery will get you nowhere, but she appreciates it all the same."

"I was being serious. You're both completely and utterly amazing."

She looks at him with warm eyes, the tell tale signs of a small, but soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Kate turns the lock and pushes the door open with her hip. "Come on, let's go have an adventure."

"When you said adventure… I thought you meant an actual adventure. You know, far off planets and aliens and strange food. I want to meet an alien."

"You have met an alien."

"No, I mean a _proper_ alien. Three eyes on stalks, bright green skin, lives on Mars kind of alien. You just look… normal."

"Normal? I know you're a writer and you depend on words for a living, but I think you need to find a dictionary and look it up. If there is anything I am, normal is not one of them."

"I don't… I didn't mean it like _that_. I mean, I could just walk past you in the middle of the street and have absolutely no idea that you weren't a human being. You just blend in. Normal. Normal people can be extraordinary and amazing and remarkable, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Kate's got her head tilted towards the ceiling, her voice soft and quiet and reminiscent.

There's something about it, her voice and her expression, that makes his insides knot and there's something off about the TARDIS. If he tried to explain it, if someone asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't have a cat in hells chance of being able to clarify it in any way. And then it's gone again, that unexplainable feeling, the disturbing expression replaced by one of sheer excitement and joy. "Come on, Castle. It's the third task from the Triwizard Tournament. And it's made out of candyfloss. Is that not just a little bit exciting?"

"I don't even know what the Triwizard Tournament is." He retaliates, pulling a bit of said candyfloss from the wall. It's bright blue, and it tastes like raspberries.

"Oh, seriously? Harry Potter!"

"There is no Triwizard Tournament in Harry Potter. At least, not yet. The last book was all about Sirius Black."

"Oh" Kate looks somewhat disappointed, the sag of her shoulders a tell tale sign. "Right. Not out yet. Well, fine. It's a maze, made out of candyfloss, with a few surprises. It's an adventure." She's grabbing him by the hand before he can even say otherwise, she's pulling him into this crazy maze with candyfloss hedges at least three times taller than him.

"So you made this? Like, you went round planting… candyfloss plants? Isn't that kind of obsessive?"

"I didn't do it. The TARDIS did it. I think she was bored. I just opened a door and bam, here it was. Going through it for the first time was great."

* * *

"But you've already done it. Why do you need to do it again? You already know the route, know the answers." He turns in a circle as they walk, almost missing Kate taking a sharp right into a part of the maze that looks dark and foreboding and, he hates to admit it, completely enthralling. It reminds him of dusk, walking alone in an unlit place, the possibility that anything could happen making the adrenalin pump through his veins.

"The route is always different. Turn left where you usually turn right. There's always a surprise around every corner." Kate looks completely unperturbed by the steadily darkening path

"What _kind_ of surprises?" he asks cautiously, glancing nervously at the foreboding shrubbery surrounding them. He's all for Harry Potter and the fight between good and evil, but he's not entirely sure that he wants to _actually_ fight evil.

But Kate seems to be full of glee and childish enthusiasm and is looking at him with a manic grin. "What kind of surprises? The good kind of surprises. The stuff of nightmare kind of surprises."

"That doesn't sound at all pleasant if you ask me. That sounds scary. And terrifying. And makes it sound like I am close to imminent death. Stuff of nightmares, really?" He's becoming all the more un-nerved by how dark this place is getting, more so that it's getting harder and harder to see Kate walking in front of him. He can see the vague outline of her hair, the curve of her hips, and he can hear the soft crunch of the grass underneath her heels. He can feel the barbed tension creeping up his spine, tickling the base of his neck.

"It's an expression, Castle. Jeez. The TARDIS won't let you die. It's just a bit of fun."

"I want different fun. Please, just a planet. It can be uninhabited, please, please, pleeeeease?"

"The presence of the please will not help. It's the candyfloss maze or nothing."

They carry on in silence, neither of them mentioning the fact that neither of them can see anything around them. If it wasn't for the fact he can hear her walking, Castle would say that Kate had disappeared on him. At least, he hopes it's Kate. For all he knows she's turned off at an unknown junction and his journey through a crazy ass maze is with Lord Voldemort. But then, barely five seconds later, there's a green glow up ahead, illuminating them both and the hedges around them.

"There's something blocking the path up ahead so I think it's either turn around or be mauled to death. And I don't want to be mauled to death. I mean, the dark was creepy, but I would rather go through that again that face whatever the creepy green glow is."

"It's just a sphinx. It's not gonna hurt you, just gonna ask us a riddle."

"A riddle?"

Kate sighs and stops in the middle of the pathway, causing Castle to walk straight into the back of him. "Yes, Castle, a riddle. You know, a complex question in which the answer is usually pretty simple. As a writer, I honestly thought you'd know that."

"I do know that. I just wasn't expecting it."

He eyes the sphinx carefully, the green eyes a glittering menace that seems to follow him every time he looks somewhere else. It freaks him out, and even more so when it… he? she? starts to speak. He sounds like his old English teacher mixed with Antonio Banderas.

"I go in hard," it starts, slow and rumbling, like the distant echo of thunder, "I come out soft."

He almost chokes on his own breath, and Kate rolls her eyes at him. But he can't help it, it's just so ridiculously _easy_.

"You blow me hard. What am I?"

"Don't even go there, Castle." Kate warns, even before he's opened his mouth. "Don't even go there."

"But-"

"I mean it."

"Can I not even laugh? Really, Kate. It's a bit funny. Where's your sense of humour?"

Kate throws her eyes up to the ceiling, arms folded. "The TARDIS thinks she has a great sense of humour. She really doesn't." She turns to the Sphinx with a steely set gaze. "It's gum."

"Pfft, that's just boring." It may be boring, but according to his English teacher, the answer is correct and the Sphinx steps aside and lets them through. "So, he's not going to eat us, right?" Castle asks, edging past the Sphinx with his back up close and personal to the hedge.

"He might snap, but he won't eat you."

"Are you sure? He sounds like my English teacher, and that guy was terrifying?"

Kate shrugs, patting the Sphinx's' flank. Castle's pretty sure it actually purrs. "Really? He sounds like Nikola Tesla to me."

"He does? What's with that?"

"The TARDIS, thinking she's funny. _Again_. Except she's really not."

Castle gives the hedge an affectionate rustle, grinning at the rumble from way up above him. "Well, I think she's hilarious."


	5. Chapter 5

**This would have been longer but I have to be at work in eight hours and I need sleep I'm sorry.**

**Disclaimer: ha ha no**

* * *

"Follow that car!"

It's cliché, but Castle loves it. He's never done that before and he's breathless with the excitement of it all. He's chasing his father in the black unmarked car that picked him up less than two minutes ago. A black unmarked car. Black unmarked cars are a speciality. They're rare and important and mean business. Is his father the president? Nah, that'd be ridiculous. Vice President, maybe. Or head of defence. That would be cool. That would be seriously cool.

"I take it you have never done that before?"

"Nope. You must have though. Right?"

"More times than I care to admit." Kate laughs, settling back in the seat and letting him enjoy it. "The novelty has worn off."

"You do have money for this, right? Because I have none."

"Not a problem. It's fine."

"So, you just walk around with every single currency for every single planet, nation you happen to visit?"

"No, because that would just be stupid. Just stop stressing about it. It'll be fine." She pulls him back so he can actually sit properly, but he keeps leaning forward.

He wants to be able to see the car, maybe about eight metres ahead, just to keep an eye on it. Black unmarked cars have a surprising habit of disappearing never to be seen again. Not that he's ever done that, of course. And normally, he'd give it up as a bad tailing job, a fidgety and paranoid passenger or some kind of emergency and tell the taxi driver to forget about it and pay him double for his trouble. But now, following this car with this passenger with his mysterious air, he can't give it up.

"Where do you think he's going in such a rush?"

"You know just as much as I do," Kate replies to his question, and though she's sat back against the seat, seemingly relaxed, he can see the excitement in the way she's tapping her foot against the back of the passenger seat in front, "actually, you probably know more."

"My mother just said that she woke up and he was getting dressed. There was no exchange of numbers, just your usual _thank you so much for last night_, and then he was gone. No explanation, no proper goodbye. Whatever it was, whatever this is, it's big and he's in a hurry."

"So, it's big then?"

"I don't think he'd be in this much of a hurry if it wasn't. They've cut traffic off more times than I can count. He ran that red light back there. Nobody runs red lights just for the heck of it."

"You do though, don't you?"

"You don't have red lights in space."

He rolls his eyes at her, she knows exactly what he means, but still she has to be snarky with him. "But you like this. The chase. The whole thrill of it, following a taxi through New York City. Come on, how many times have you managed to do that?"

"Do you want the list in chronological or alphabetical order? What does it matter?"

"You could just give me a straight answer, you know. Why do you have to hide everything? I'm just asking you questions. They're not exactly demanding. You take me away in your magical box, let me meet my father. Sort of. Introduce me to this amazing world where almost anything is possible, and every time I ask you a question you just close right back up. I've given up on asking you anything personal, I can see that's going no-where for the time being so I'm being friendly. You know that word? It means expressing liking. People being nice to each other. But if it's just going to be completely one sided then I'll forget it. We'll just sit here in mutual animosity. "

"That's a bit farfetched, isn't it? I don't hate you."

"Well, you're not doing a very good job of showing it."

"I'm sorry, Castle. I am. I'm just … it's been a while since I've travelled with anyone. It's nothing personal."

Castle shift's his attention from the road in front and turns to look at her. "What the _hell_ happened the last time?"

"Castle…"

"Alright, alright. Fine. Just forget it."

* * *

They spend the rest of the journey in a slightly awkward silence. Castle is more concerned about how long this journey is, how much this is going to cost and how badly he is not going to be able to afford it. Kate can say it doesn't matter, and that it's all fine, he has no need to worry, but the length of this journey (almost an hour and a half) is making him (and the driver) a little angsty. But, for the most part, they've had no trouble keeping up with his father. Whether he has no worries about being followed, or he's just a terrible look out, Castle how no idea, but it's been trouble free so far. And that's okay.

The journey itself takes almost an hour and forty five minutes, even before they arrive at the police cordon they've both seen it from the road, a massive black cloud that's rising miles into the sky from behind a small copse of trees. There's no way of knowing what has actually happened.

The black car stops before a large metal gate and for a moment they see an arm appear out of a window, supposedly with an ID, and it's not long before they're pulling up to the gate too. This is the bit he's not been looking forward to because how exactly is he going to convince this guy in a black suit that they're both supposed to be there? However, it seems it's not going to be something to worry about as Kate has already pulled out a small black wallet and is holding it prepared in her hand. It looks thin and battered and completely plain. But when the guy in the black suit taps on the window and asks them for their ID, all Kate needs to do is show him the wallet for a few moments and then he's letting them go through. Magic.

"How on earth did you manage that?" He asks incredulously, momentarily forgetting his irritation with her.

She holds out the wallet to him, and on it he can see that it tells him that they're both from the FBI. The FBI. He's an honorary member of the FBI. "It's psychic paper. Shows somebody exactly what you want them to see. You want to be in the FBI? Fine. King and Queen of Patagonia? Sorted. It's the perfect thing when you want to get into places you're not supposed to be."

"That's amazing. I don't suppose you have any of those to spare, do you? They'd be perfect for me getting into places for research."

"No. Terrible in the wrong hands. Absolutely terrible."

"Do you ever have any fun?"

"Only when you're not looking."

The taxi grinds to a halt before he can take that thought any further and it doesn't take long for the two to realise why. They're still a good forty or so metres from all the activity, but the driver has been struck dumb and motionless by the sight in front of him. There's flashing lights and people yelling at each other, about twenty different streams of water (that they can see, anyway), all of them trying to fight the blaze that has taken hold of a passenger jet. Or what had resembled a passenger jet, at least. There's a trail of burnt grass trailing away behind it, debris littering the ground and a constant stream of ash that has settled on almost everything.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm still crying at Castle last night. And I also just watched Pacific Rim for the first time. And now I'm emotional. So very emotional.**

* * *

"Do we know how many casualties? Fatalities?"

The guy in the black suit pulls a face. It's a hard to describe face, Castle thinks. One that's confused, but also kind of proud that he's the one that gets to break whatever news this is to everyone else, and then there's the element of smugness. The, I know something you don't know, that he both loves and hates. "That's the thing…" he pauses, for dramatic effect, "no one was on board."

Kate frowns. He frowns. The man who is his father frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The plane was empty. No one dead, dying or injured." He's focusing his attention on Castle and unnamed papa Castle, completely blanking Kate.

"But that doesn't make sense." Kate interrupts, making suit guy turn his head, for once, towards her. He looks like she's something horrible on the bottom of his shoe. "You don't have remote control ability yet. At least, not for an aeroplane. Something else is going on here."

"And as a woman, you would know all about that right?" Castle immediately decides that he doesn't like the guy in the black suit. "Why don't you do whatever you're supposed to and then go back to your office and leave the actual work to those more capable?"

Castle has to bite his tongue hard to stop from refraining, knows full well that Kate can hold her own against this… arrogant, self-obsessed sexist pig in a suit. And he does expect some form of tirade from Kate, some technical jargon about remote controls and signals and auto pilots and all the stuff he doesn't have a clue about.

"Alright, Mr… what was your name again?"

"Agent Torres." He replies, with all the dignity a man who thinks he's far better than he actually is can muster.

"I do apologise Agent Torres, why don't I leave you in the more than capable hands of my colleague Mr. Castle, and I will go have a look around." She turns on her heel sharply, whispers a harsh "_Don't do anything stupid_," in his ear before she turns to the wreckage of the plane.

Agent Torres doesn't seem particularly happy about letting her anywhere near the plane, especially with the shoes she's wearing. But he huffs, and turns back to Castle. "Honestly, there's not a lot we can tell you right now. When we've put the fire out and we've deemed it safe for inspection then we'll let you know."

"I don't think so."

"What?"

Castle's father sticks his hands in his trouser pockets. "I said I don't think so. I want to look around."

"And, um, who are you?"

"Ortiz."

"Which agency is that?"

Ortiz, and something about it makes Castle think that it's not really his name, steps forward and passes Torres a business card that makes the young agents knees tremble. "Now, you're going to go back over there, and phone your boss with your tail between your legs and tell him that we have taken over the investigation."

Torres takes one look at him, thinks for a few seconds that maybe he should argue and stand his ground, but one look from Ortiz has him running for the horizon. Sort of.

* * *

"Kate!"

She's standing watching the burning fuselage with a contemplative look. He can practically hear the cogs whirring in her mind. She turns towards him after a moment, walks over to him with all the superiority of a woman who knows what she's doing. "You scared Torres off?"

"I – well, not me personally. Ortiz here did most of the hard work."

"Ortiz?" Castle pulls a face behind Ortiz's face, one that says so much, and Kate has to stop herself from laughing. "That must be you."

"And you are?"

"I'm Kate Beckett. This is Richard Castle. FBI." Kate says, holding out the psychic paper again.

"This is my case." Ortiz says, gruff and full of self-assurance. "You can work with me on this, but I lead. The only reason I got rid of Torres was because he was a jack-ass."

"Yeah, I'll admit to that." Castle laughs, and then claps his hands together. "So where do we start?"

"You guys aren't really from the FBI, are you?"

"Er – why do you say that?"

"First of all, no FBI agent starts an investigation with _so where do we start_, and second, that piece of paper you just tried to show me is blank. So, I want answers. How did you get past the perimeter?"

Kate laughs, which is not something Castle expected her to do. "I like you. You're good. Okay, we're not the FBI. But if I told you where we're really from, then I don't think you'd believe us. Also I think you'd throw us in jail."

"Try me."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Alright, fine. I'm an alien. I travel in time. I have a time machine. This, is Richard Castle. He is from thirty odd years in the future. I picked him up, he wanted to see New York as it was when he was born."

"And you somehow ended up here?"

"We followed you from the hotel." Castle replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry."

"So, why exactly did you follow me?" Ortiz asks, stirring his polystyrene cup of coffee with a thin wooden stick. "Just sheer luck?"

"I – um. Well…"

"Castle got excited by the big black car." Kate rescues Castle from his stuttering, pats him almost patronisingly on the arm. "He wanted to follow it, just so he could tell people something exciting."

* * *

They've moved into a make-shift tent, a command center of sorts, full of the most state of the art computer systems that they could find. For Castle, of course, these seem practically ancient and they both wonder how they could ever possibly hope to catch anybody with prehistoric equipment. Ortiz seems to be the boss, the one that everyone is scared of, and nobody is questioning these two strangers. Torres is hovering in the background still unsure about what he's supposed to do now after a harsh reprimand from his senior.

"Easily amused, I get it. What I don't get, is that plane."

"Well, when we've found the black box we can work something out, right?"

"Well, do you want to go find it when that plane is still burning?"

"No…" Castle answers, as if that much was obvious. "I didn't mean right this instant."

"Hm. Well, honestly, there's not a lot I can do here. It looks like it's just a matter of heading back to the city and waiting for the black box to be dug out."

"Excellent. I, er, don't suppose you want to give us a lift, do you?"

* * *

"So, you're an alien."

"Yeah.

"Martian?"

"No. No, I'm not Martian. Why does everyone think that?" She huffs, and slides into the middle seat of Ortiz's government car. "I'm from a planet called Gallifrey. Light years away."

"And you're a…"

"Time Lord."

"Even though…" Ortiz says, looking her up and down with a scrutinising gaze.

"Even though I'm a female, yes. We weren't all that big on equality. Still," she tips her head back against the seat rest, stares up at the ceiling with that same measure of sadness that Castle wishes he'd never seen in the first place, "it doesn't matter much now."

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Do what?"

"Referring to your species in the past tense. I'm going to keep asking until you tell me."

Kate's silent for a moment, her lower jaw moving as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Ortiz seems to have lost all attention in them, and has moved his focus to the scenery outside. But Castle's attention is help purely on Kate. "I…"

"Seriously, Kate. Is it that bad?"

She huffs again, runs around through her hair, and then gives it up as a bad job. "They're all dead."

Castle opens his mouth to say something. Anything. But all he can manage is a simple "O_h_."

* * *

He wants to know what happened. It's tearing him up inside, and ever since they got back into the city Kate has been quiet and withdrawn and snappy with everybody who crosses her path. And considering that the entire base of where ever they are finds it so completely ridiculous that she's a woman in a position of power. So, he stays out of way and remains with Ortiz. But like he said, there's not a lot for them to go on until they manage to get the black box. So he goes about trying to find out as much about his new found father as possible. But as a super secret special agent, he's not particularly revealing. Caught between a rock and a hard place.

In the end he chooses Kate, mainly because he doesn't have the urge to constantly blurt out the _hi I'm actually your son and the woman you slept with last night is my mother, hi, how are you doing_ that's been tickling the back of his throat ever since he met the guy.

"Castle, will you just ask me what you want to know?"

"Well you seemed so against saying it. I don't want to bring back bad memories."

"My whole life consists of bad memories. One more won't matter. Go on, just ask."

"What happened?"

"I killed them."

He doesn't expect the answer so soon, or so bluntly and it takes him off guard. "I – you… what?"

"I committed genocide against my own race. They all died because of me."

"But… why?"

"Why? Because I had to. It was a matter of life or death." She turns to look out of the window at the New York skyline. He recognises parts of it from his childhood, but some of it is new. Or old. Long since replaced in the almost forty years he's been on this planet. It's home for him. Full of people he doesn't know, full of those he does. He can't imagine a world where they're no longer there. He can't imagine a world where he's the only one left. Can't imagine being the one who did it.

"For you?"

"For the _universe_. If I hadn't done what I did then you'd probably be dead. My planets gone. My people are dead. I'm supposed to be able to feel them, you know. In my head. It's just empty."


End file.
